


I Haven't Left Your Bed Since

by Black_Hole_of_Procrastination



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Hole_of_Procrastination/pseuds/Black_Hole_of_Procrastination
Summary: Robb's proposal doesn't go as planned.





	I Haven't Left Your Bed Since

Still slowly but surely moving my tumblr fic here. Accompanying edit for this fic can be found [here](http://blackholeofprocrastination.tumblr.com/post/143292580481/i-havent-left-your-bed-since-robb-x-margaery).

 

**I Haven't Left Your Bed Since**

He remembers the exact moment he realizes it.

They’re sitting on the little patio outside her apartment, drinking Bloody Mary’s she made while he was still asleep, a box with last night’s pizza open between them. He watches as she meticulously picks the pepperonis off of a slice, and he smiles to himself. Margaery’s the only person he knows who can look so damn ladylike while eating cold, leftover pizza. She’s sitting crosslegged with her feet tucked under her and she’s wearing a tshirt of his that she stole the last time he stayed over. Suddenly she catches him looking and grins. That’s when he knows.

_I’m going to marry this girl._

He carries the knowledge around with him for a while. A week passes. Then another week. Then a month.

Robb convinces himself he’s just waiting for the right moment. This isn’t the sort of thing you just blurt out to a girl like Margery Tyrell.

But the truth is, somewhere deep down he knows this may be the end of them, the one thing that finally scares Margaery off for good. She’s been clear from the beginning what they are. What she wants. Something fun. Casual. Easy.

It’s what he wanted too, what some part of him still wants…only now he wants so much _more_.

_( _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Margaery in his bed every night and every morning._______________ Margaery meeting his folks. Margaery in a white dress with yellow roses woven in her hair. Margaery dancing with each of his brothers at their wedding. _Margaery sitting with his sisters by the water at the family lake house._ _ _ _ _ ____Margaery holding a baby with tawny little curls and chubby dimpled cheeks.)_________

He buys a ring. It costs a small fortune, but the salesgirl persuades him that a vintage ring is the right choice (some spiel about choosing a ring that carries it’s own history). He thinks Margy will like the sound of that, and so he slides his credit card across the counter, and tries to cast away any panicked thoughts about paying off the bill.

When he gets home he tucks the little satin-lined box into the top drawer of his dresser, hiding it beneath a pile of his socks and tshirts. As the weeks go by, he pulls it out every once in a while, just to look, only to stash it back into the drawer.

_Not yet._  

He almost asks Loras for advice, there is no one who understands Margy better, but Robb knows that doing so would mean running the risk of alerting the entire Tyrell clan to his intentions. He’d rather avoid any unfortunate run-ins with Margaery’s brothers (or worst still her grandmother) and so he keeps his plans to himself.  

When the words finally do come out, he instantly wishes he could call them back.

They are in his apartment, sprawled over the cushions of his beat-up couch, half-dressed. He is still inside of her when he says it, hazy and dopey-stupid with love for the beautiful woman lying on top of him.

_Idiot_.

He thinks mournfully of the little satin-lined box in his top drawer down the hall, of all the romantic speeches he had practiced for this very moment.

Margaery chuckles, still panting slightly from her release.

“I was that good, huh?” she teases, leaning down to press a kiss high on his chest, right above where his heart feels like it has stopped completely. She presses a few more absent kisses along his collarbone, before she catches the look in his eye. “Christ,” the word is more exhale than sound, as she stares at him, wide-eyed.

_It’s now or never._

Robb sits up, taking her with him. His hands reach out to cup her face, fingers anchored in the hair that’s come loose from her ponytail.

“Marry me,” he repeats. 

She is frozen under his hands, her face unreadable. Robb’s stomach turns, as all of the anxiety he’s tried to keep in check over the last few months comes bubbling to the surface.

This was it. He’d ruined everything. He was going to lose her.

“Ok.”

Her answer is almost drowned out by the panicked chorus of doubt filling his head, but eventually those two miraculous letters hammer their way into his brain.

“Ok?” he huffs out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Yes!”

Margaery rolls her eyes at him, but he sees the tears beginning to well in their corners and the way her cheeks are dimpled from the force of her grin.

His heart feels like it might burst from his chest. He tugs her forward. They are both smiling so widely, the kiss is more of an awkward clashing of teeth and tearful laughter. Robb doesn’t mind.

_Margaery Tyrell is going to be my wife._


End file.
